


I'll Stop the World

by fairy911911



Series: 30 Day Cheesy Tropes Challenge [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 21:07:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1757033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairy911911/pseuds/fairy911911
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Today was not a good day. That was putting it mildly. Got in a fight with Zachariah, spilled chowder all over his new tie, watched in horror as his computer crashed. And now Dean was getting out of the office over an hour after shift ended. No things were not fine. He barely registered entering the elevator and punching the button for first floor. He hardly noticed the other man run to jump in at the last second, only huffing in annoyance at the automatic reopening of the doors so the man wasn’t compressed. The guy might have made a noncommittal noise of apology, or maybe it was a greeting, as the doors finally slid shut. He was too pissed to care.</p><p>The thing that did catch his attention was sudden stop of movement and great force of momentum pushing him down to the floor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Stop the World

**Author's Note:**

> Day 26: Elevator Meeting
> 
> This is way longer then I thought it would be. Sorry it's up so late. I just graduated so I've barely been in front of a computer to write.
> 
> I don't own supernatural or the characters, only the words.

Today was not a good day. That was putting it mildly. Got in a fight with Zachariah, spilled chowder all over his new tie, watched in horror as his computer crashed. And now Dean was getting out of the office over an hour after shift ended. No things were not fine. He barely registered entering the elevator and punching the button for first floor. He hardly noticed the other man run to jump in at the last second, only huffing in annoyance at the automatic reopening of the doors so the man wasn’t compressed. The guy might have made a noncommittal noise of apology, or maybe it was a greeting, as the doors finally slid shut. He was too pissed to care.

The thing that did catch his attention was sudden stop of movement and great force of momentum pushing him down to the floor. Dean caught himself on side, the other man wasn’t as lucky and fell on his ass.

There was only one reason the elevator would stop. But that couldn’t happen. It just couldn’t. He dared a glance at the floor indicator. It was stuck between 11 and 12. No, no, no, no, no. This was not happening. He could feel his breath become shorter and shallower. He stumbled over to the door and tried to push them open. He couldn’t get a grip on them to shove to the sides. But it had to open. He tried a second time, a third. A new position, a new grip. Nothing. Dean banged on the chrome door in anguish, letting out a loud “Fuck.”

He slid down to his knees, head dropped against the doors. He was hyperventilating now. His muscles seemed to lock beneath his skin. Dean's heart was beating a mile a minute, jumping out of his chest. He was having a heart attack; he was going to die in this stupid elevator.

"Calm down its okay." The rough voice seemed far away, but it had to have come from the man with him. Dean didn't have time for him. "No it's not," he barked. Not his finest moment, but he wasn't in the mindset to give a fuck.

The man approached him like one would trying to calm a rabid animal. He held his arms out as his slowly made his way across the floor. "I know you don't want to hear this," he began, keeping his voice low and soothing. "But you have to take deep breaths to calm down. Getting worked up is only going to hurt you. It'll be okay. I promise."

Part of Dean wanted to ignore him out of irritated spite, but the rational side overpowered, and he felt himself take in a large gulp of air and slowly blow it out. "Now breathe in for eight seconds, hold it for seven, and breathe out for eight." Dean found himself obeying automatically, and more surprisingly realized that it was working. A huge weight was lifted from his body, like all the tension was seeping out of him. It was amazing.

“Do you need a hug?” Dean responded with a small nod, and two arms wrapped themselves around him. Dean found himself sinking into the other’s warmth and comfort. The two just sat there until Dean was breathing at a normal pace and his body had seized shaking. But even then he would have been content to just stay there, connected.

When the man finally pulled away he sat opposite of Dean and gave him a concerned look. “Are you okay?” gently asked.

The embarrassment was now setting in, and Dean could only let out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, I just... I’ve just had a shit day.”

The other man nodded. “And am I correct to assume you dislike confined spaces?”

Dean was about to deny it, but images of him panicking on airplanes and feeling trapped in small offices flashed in his mind. Huh. There actually might be something there. He gave the man a short yes and looked down at his shoes.

“Well the combined stress of the day and constricting elevator would be enough to cause a panic attack. Don’t worry. Happens to everyone every now and then.” He paused for a second, studying Dean. “I’m Castiel Novak, by the way.”

Dean glanced up at him. “Thanks, Castiel. I’m Dean Winchester.”

“You’re welcome, Dean Winchester.”

The two lapsed into silence, unsure of what to do next. “So,” Dean began slowly, “I haven’t seen you around the office.”

“That’s because I just transferred,” he explained. “I started last week.”

“Oh. I guess i just haven’t noticed you, yet.”

“I guess.”

Silence fell again. Cas pulled out his cell phone, and it hit Dean that they could have called for help. Instead he was too busy freaking out. Idiot.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sigh of frustration and a weary shove of a phone into a trench coat pocket. “Of course there’s no signal,” Cas muttered. “Is there a night-time cleaning service?”

“Yeah, I guess they’ll find us eventually.”

Silence again.

“What were you staying here so late for?” Cas questioned.

Dean guessed the guy was trying to diminish the awkward tension in that hung in the air, and he was thankful. “This horrible project Zachariah sprung on me at the last minute. I mean, it’s a Friday night, I wanna go home, unwind, and watch Star Trek or something. Not do some grunt work he forgot about.”

“I feel horrible,” said Cas.

Dean shook his head and gave a sad smile. “It’s not your fault.”

“I know,” he remarked. “But I can style sympathize. And I can relate. Being the ‘Newbie’,” he raised his hands to make finger quotations, “I get stuck with all the grunt work. It’s agonizing.”

“I know, right? I mean today I got so pissed I nearly clobbered him.”

“He’s such a dick,” both said at the same time. The two burst into laughter. Dean could feel the tension ease away as they smiled at each other.

The conversation soon effortlessly flowed between them. Dean learned that Cas was also from the Midwest - Pontiac to be exact - and moved to New York for school. He was a psychology major who somehow found himself liking the office work day. Dean was thrilled to uncover their shared love of classic rock, burgers, and _Doctor Sexy, MD_. And, strangely enough, it wasn’t a one-sided conversation. Dean told Cas about living on the road with his Dad and brother for years until he left for school in the east coast. He went on and on about Sam and how smart he was to get into Harvard and how lucky he was to be with his wife Jessica and how proud Dean was of him. And all the while Cas intently listened, completely engrossed in the story. And, God, if Dean didn’t feel a flutter in his chest when Cas titled his head in confusion or laughed with a toothy grin at his bad jokes or just let him vent.

Dean didn’t know how long they had been speaking - hours, minutes, centuries, who could say - but eventually he noticed the air chill around him. He could feel his eyelids droop and his limbs grow heavy. But Cas was in the middle of a story about his brother Gabriel getting him stuck, at age six, in the school’s only tree, and he found himself worried that the man would be horribly offended if he dozed off.

He kept slipping between the worlds of consciousness and dreams, only catching glimpses of phrases as he jerked his head up to keep awake: “... hanging upside down off a branch when Mr. Milton...,” “... such a mess. I was so embarrassed and I didn’t know what to do...,” “... why the school then banned pudding...”

He was so far gone he hadn't realized Castiel had stopped talking, only really noticing when what felt like the trench coat was draped over his body. He opened his eyes to find Cas’s blue ones staring back. “Go to sleep, Dean,” he whispered. “You need some rest.” No one had to tell him twice. He shut his eyes as he leaned back against the cool chrome of the walls, and found himself slipping away instantly.

A loud, mechanical pulled Dean from sleep. He reluctantly opened his eyes to find a firefighter standing in the now wide open elevator doors, having a strange expression of amusement and annoyance plastered on his face. Dean went to stand up, but couldn’t under the heavy weight that was apparently on him, and he suddenly notices dark hairs brushing against his chin. He peered down to see what could only be described as Cas cuddling with him. The man was planted between his legs, leaning against his chest, head pillowed by Dean’s neck and shoulder, curled up against the warmth of his body. And, God forbid, Dean was cuddling back, with both arms wrapped possessively around the man. This was not a position one naturally got into during sleep. His mind was reeling, but for some reason the only thing he could muster to spit out was:

“What time is it?”

The fireman let out an exasperated sigh. “Like one in the morning. The clean staff found that the elevator was broken and called us to fix it. Somehow you and your boyfriend slept through most of it.” Dean was going to correct him on their relationship status, but found he didn’t have the energy to do so. The man continued with a baffled look. “You did know there was a call button for emergencies, right?” Dean glanced over at the panel and sure enough a ‘911’ button was clearly labeled. Oh. Well then.

“Sorry,” he feebly mumbled.

“Just get out of here.”

Dean unwound his arms and gently shook Cas. “Come on buddy, doors are open.” The other man gave a small, disapproving groan and burrowed into Dean’s chest. He finally gave up on the idea of a friendly wake up and decided to smack him in the arm with a disgruntled “Cas!”

The man woke with a start, and upon realize he was laying on Dean jumped away as if he had been shock. It would have been hilarious if it wasn’t early in the morning and some random dude was waiting for them to leave. Cas looked like he had and apology waiting on his lips when he noticed the state of the elevator and man in the doorway. He focused his attention back onto Dean. “We can leave,” he simply stated.

“Yeah,” he remarked, eyes still locked with Cas’s. “So let’s get going.”

Cas was the first to break away, moving to reach for his briefcase. Dean followed suit as he stood up, gathering his case and the coat. Both gave a sheepish “thank you,” as the exited the elevator and hurriedly made their way to the stairs. Dean was never going to trust that machine ever again. Well, maybe on Monday he would. Like he was going to walk up twenty flights of steps.

Both slowed to a halt when they exited the building and stood on curb. The chill night air circled around them. Dean didn’t know what to say. Judging by the way Cas was staring at his feet he didn’t either. When he did look up his bright blue eyes bore into his.

“So I’ll see you Monday?” Cas finally asked.

“Yeah...” Dean trailed off, not sure of where to go from here. What happened to the easy banter? Had cuddling ruined that forever?

Suddenly, Cas was leaning towards Dean, and all he could do was stare at the man’s lips. Cas was going to kiss him. Did he want Cas to kiss him? Was that even a good idea? All he could imagine was how soft and warm his mouth would be, how great it would feel to move against the chapped lips and slight stubble on his cheeks. Maybe he was completely on board with Cas kissing him. That was an overwhelming thought.

But Cas instead reached down and plucked the trench coat from his hand. “I think this is mine,” he mumbled. He backed away from Dean and automatically began picking at the coat. Dean was frozen with shock and _disappointment_. What was that about?

“Goodbye Dean,” he quickly stammered. Cas waved as he shuffled off to his car, a small silver Honda. The man didn’t check back on Dean as his car started and drove off into the night. As soon as the car was gone Dean brought his free hand to his face and dragged it down. Idiot. He had the chance and fucking chickened out. Wait a go Winchester.

He stumbled into his car, begging that he hadn't ruined his chances with Cas. He could only hope that Monday would be better.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're every having anxiety, the breathing trick really does wonders.
> 
> There might be a sequel to this with the next update... Who knows.


End file.
